


all of it belongs to me

by keijibeam



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: End of High School, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29168106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keijibeam/pseuds/keijibeam
Summary: oikawa wants something from iwa, but he'll have to prove he's worthy, first.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	all of it belongs to me

**Author's Note:**

> there is a li'l tradition in japan that some high school/middle school graduates participate in where you give the second button on your uniform (the button closest to your heart) to your crush on the day they graduate. and oikawa is a sentimental fool.

“That belongs to me, Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa’s finger rested against the second button of Hajime’s white blazer. He looked down at his blazer, up at Oikawa, then raised an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

The pout forming in Oikawa’s expression solidified; his eyes narrowed and his forehead creased. The fingertip at Hajime’s abdomen pressed harder, digging into his stomach.

“Several of our classmates and kouhai offered me their second buttons today,” Oikawa bragged, turning his face up so he could look down at Hajime, “but I refused them all.”

“Your fans must have been devastated.” His hand swatted Oikawa’s away and smoothed down the invisible wrinkles, brushed away Oikawa’s petulant mood.

“Iwa-chan!” Hands grabbed the sides of his blazer, crinkling real wrinkles into the fabric as Oikawa yanked from side to side. “ _Iwa-chan!_ ”

“Oi, Shittykawa,” Hajime grabbed Oikawa by the chin, his fingers gripping into his jaw, “high school’s over. Stop acting like a brat and tell me what it is you want.”

Oikawa’s fists still tugged at Hajime’s sides, but they pulled him closer instead. “Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispered meekly, though Hajime knew best of all what an act that voice was, “your _bu-tton_. I want it. The one closest to your heart.”

Hajime rolled his eyes, tugging at the hem of his blazer with his free hand in an attempt to straighten out the fabric, though Oikawa’s hands still clung to him. “Doesn’t that only apply to uniforms with gakuran? We wear blazers. That button is closer to my gut than my heart.”

“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“I’m not ripping apart my uniform to satisfy your antiquated romantic notions.”

“I-wa- _chaaannn._ ”

Hajime let go of his chin, only to squeeze Oikawa’s cheek between his index finger and thumb. High school’s end hadn’t dampened Oikawa’s persistence -- though, he supposed, in the midst of all the other changes, he felt a little happy that Oikawa still behaved like Oikawa. The reliable brat before him tugged at his blazer again and he let himself be pulled closer.

“Neither of us are dying,” Hajime sighed. “We’ll see each other plenty.”

“But Iwa-chan -- ”

His hand slipped into Oikawa’s hair, messing up the swoop he had spent so long in the mirror perfecting; before he could voice any protests, Hajime leaned forward and kissed him, long enough that when he pulled away, Oikawa’s face was pink. Hajime’s once calloused thumb ran across his cheek, soft against Oikawa’s skin from a lack of volleyball training. Oikawa’s hand had reached his shoulder; his thumb felt rough when it swept over Hajime’s jaw.

“Aren’t these moments enough to remember me by?”

Hajime only saw a flash of Oikawa’s expression, his face contorting into something sullen, furious, disconsolate, something wholly Oikawa Tooru, before he lunged at him and wrapped his arms around Hajime’s shoulders.

“Of _course_ not, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined at his ear, squeezing as tight as he could.

“You’re hopeless,” Hajime scoffed. His hands settled at Oikawa’s sides, pushing him away gently. Amusement pulled his lips from side to side as he examined the red, sulking face before him.

“I want my button, Iwa-chan.”

“Yeah? Beat me in arm wrestling and I’ll consider it.”

“No fair! That’s impossible!”

“Gonna give up that easy?”

Oikawa glared, his frown deepened. “You’re cruel, Iwa-chan.”

“If it’s you saying that,” Hajime laughed, “I must be pretty evil.”

“The worst.” Oikawa’s eyes narrowed at him. “I’ll beat you in volleyball,” he declared, “then you’ll give me your button.”

“No way. Arm wrestling or nothing.”

“You…” Oikawa huffed, crossing his arms. “If I beat you in arm wrestling, I deserve a lot more than just a button.”

“Oh yeah? What do you think you deserve?”

“You.”

“You already have me.”

“You’re not that obtuse, Iwa-chan. You know what I mean.”

He studied Oikawa’s face again, pinched his cheek again when he realized how serious Oikawa was. “That’s a big ask for someone moving halfway across the globe.”

“You’re asking me to beat you in _arm wrestling!_ I deserve a really big prize for that!”

Hajime cocked his head to the side, raising one eyebrow.

“Iwa- _chan!_ ”

“You don’t have to keep saying my name.”

“...Hajime.”

Hajime shuddered. “It sounds weird when you call me that.”

“Hajime...chan.”

“Stop.”

“I’ll beat you in three volleyball matches, and then you’re mine.” Oikawa slapped his hands to Hajime’s cheeks and squeezed, smiling at the glower he received in return. “For life,” he added.

Hajime’s cheeks grew sore. “Win a gold medal and we’ll see.” His voice came out muffled, but Oikawa heard him.

A smug grin crept across his face at Hajime’s demand. “Easy.” His tongue poked out from between his lips, eyes squeezed shut in delight.

“You still have to take me down in arm wrestling for the button.”

“ _Iwa-chan!_ ”

  
  


***

  
  


Three days passed after Oikawa left for Argentina before Hajime noticed what he had taken with him -- what he had stolen from his bedroom.

“Assikawa, you’re a thief,” Hajime hissed into his phone. “You took it, didn’t you. You couldn’t beat me so you stole your prize.”

“Iwa-chan, what are you talking about? It’s still early here, have some patience with me.”

Hajime could hear the pout of his lip from halfway across the globe, could picture Oikawa scrunch his nose and forehead in faux confusion. He missed seeing it in person, and that absence stung his chest. He ignored the sensation in favor of continuing to chew Oikawa out.

“I know you’re still on Japan time, so don’t try the timezone card again. Where’s my button, asshole?”

“Ah, you mean _my_ button? It’s on my nightstand, safe and sound. it was the first thing I unpacked.” The sound of fabric rustling and feet sliding across the floor came over the phone -- the noise of Oikawa shuffling across his room. “It’s in my hand now! Want me to send you a picture?”

“We had a deal. You better be prepared the next time we see each other, because I’m not letting you get away with this.”

“What are you so upset for? I won our bet, Iwa-chan.”

“You get heatstroke already? You never beat me once.”

“Did so.”

“Oikawa, you know damn well you didn’t.”

“Don’t you ever look at your phone? Check your camera roll, old man.”

“Oikawa…”

“Just look!”

Hajime pulled the phone away from his ear, putting Oikawa on speakerphone and growling, “I don't know what the hell you think is gonna be on my camera roll that will save you from this.”

The majority of pictures in the photo gallery on Hajime’s phone featured Oikawa, and were also taken by Oikawa. There were plenty of pictures of Godzilla, including a drawing done by Kindaichi and given to him as a graduation gift that served as his lock screen. More pictures included group shots with the team, unflattering angles of himself that Matsukawa and Hanamaki had captured in secret one day when Oikawa had leaked his password to the pair, and more Oikawa. The most recent pictures had clearly been taken by Oikawa while he slept, but at the very top of the camera roll, one picture stood out. The picture Oikawa had wanted him to see. Hajime squeezed the phone in his grip, squeezed his eyes shut, and sighed.

“You’re a real piece of work, you shifty bastard.”

“ _Shifty?_ I didn’t break any rules! You never said you had to be awake when I beat you.” The smirk Oikawa certainly wore appeared crystal clear in Hajime’s mind.

“You better not try anything like this when we face each other on the court.”

“Iwa-chan, please. I don’t need any tricks to beat you in volleyball.”

“Cocky son of a...who are you, Ushiwaka?”

“What?! How could you say that to me! Iwa-chan!”

Oikawa kept yelling, but his voice faded away as Hajime grew distracted by the pictures on his phone. The first, most agitating image, showed Oikawa grinning from ear to ear as he held down the arm of a sleeping Hajime -- a false victory, by all accounts, that infuriated Hajime. What infuriated him even more was the way his anger faded as he continued to scroll. He had considered himself lucky to be such a heavy sleeper for as long as he had known Oikawa, a restless boy prone to toss and turn incessantly through the night. It occurred to him then that it may be a dangerous habit after all as he looked through the poses Oikawa had put him in during his sleep.

What occurred to him next hit him like a bullet: it would be a long, long time before the ache in his chest healed. A picture of Oikawa kissing him on the forehead while he slept appeared on his screen. Oikawa winked at the camera; Hajime swiped his thumb and scrolled past. Next was a photo actually taken by Hajime himself, a rarity in his camera roll. Oikawa’s sleeping face, screwed up in a scowl, undoubtedly directed at whatever nemesis his subconscious had provided. He didn’t scroll past this picture. The ache in his chest stung, tightened, but it was the kind of bruise that felt good when you poked it.

More noise came from his phone. Oikawa whined, called out his name, demanded an apology. Hajime turned off the speakerphone and pressed it to his ear.

“Oikawa,” he said loudly, cutting Oikawa off.

“What is it, Iwa-chan?” He sounded grumpy, and god help him, Hajime still found that endearing.

“Hurry up and win that gold medal.”

The line grew silent for a long while. He wasn’t worried that their connection had dropped, but he could imagine the expression Oikawa wore, the flush of his cheeks and the smile on his face; that genuine smile that only Hajime knew.

“Don’t worry about me, Iwa-chan. You focus on gathering a formidable team. You’re gonna need it to take me on.”

The chances of him actually beating Oikawa in a volleyball match weren’t exactly fifty-fifty, Hajime wasn’t ashamed to admit. If anything, he was proud. The outcome of any matches they played against each other would have no bearing on their future anyway; Hajime realized a long time ago that this was his loss.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :) i'm on twitter and tumblr @ boomairspike


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